


dolls cannot choose; they can only be chosen

by thrallax



Category: Bloodborne (Video Game)
Genre: Character Study, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-07
Updated: 2017-07-07
Packaged: 2018-11-29 03:06:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 587
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11431869
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thrallax/pseuds/thrallax
Summary: once, you were perfect. time was not kind to you.why did gehrman leave you?





	dolls cannot choose; they can only be chosen

when you were first made, you were perfect, you think - or so close to perfect as a doll might ever get, soulless and empty. quiet, luminous eyes fixed upon your master, and your first word was his name - “Gehrman,” - said under your breath in this breathy, quiet voice, as if you were awestruck.

and why should you not be? you had a voice. you could speak; could be spoken to. this change gave you awareness. this change gave you a being. and master paid attention to you - oh, how he did - and you wanted for nothing. you served - him, foremost, and then the hunters, after him. in those days, he did not whisper that final line about the workshop. in those days, you were not a tool: you were a doll, his doll, and you could have been no prouder for it. he looked upon you with warmth and fondness, and you followed. your god was not the great ones - your god was this man, this man who had made you, given you life.

you were made perfect, but you did not stay as such. Gehrman would ask you simple questions, little tests - you knew not which were tests until after you had answered, and he would look at you as though you had betrayed him apurpose. so it was that these questions became less and less frequent, but only because so too did Gehrman speak to you less and less. you were made perfect, but time wore you. made you flawed. made you less. and you could see, on your master’s face, how he was disgusted with you. how he could not look at you.

and he told the hunters that they, too, may use you - you, his prized possession, his little doll - and they came to you. their hands searched for something, eyes saw someone who was not there, and you did not understand.

but above all, master had said, you were to serve the hunters.

and so you did.  


and the hunters came and left, some never returning, and you served those who came, without complaint, because that was what you did, and Gehrman retreated, until some hunters might never see him more than once, when he offered the workshop - and you - to them. and they came and went. you still approach your master, but he will not look at you and, sometimes, in a soft voice, he says a name that is not yours, because you were never given one. only little doll, only ever little doll.

and then there was one hunter. your sole focus - the one break in the monotony of the dream, with Gehrman no longer speaking to you. and they treat you like your master once had; they speak with you, when they need not - they bring you small trinkets. they do not wake you, if you sleep, nor try to lay a hand on you.

and so it is, quietly, that you ask them a question.

voice cautious, you raise it, tell them of the gods, so they know that you have not forgotten your place, that they are as the gods to you, that they in particular are as  _ a  _ god to you.

          “Would you… ever think to love me?  
                    “Of course, I do love you. Isn’t that how you’ve made me?”

and if they do not answer, that is fine. you had not expected one. you are flawed, broken; you have your use, and naught else.

so long as the hunter needs you, you will remain.

**Author's Note:**

> i wrote this mostly for myself, but i figured i would post it! here she is, the queen of my heart, the plain doll.


End file.
